Read THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 2 Online
Authors: Ramesh Menon
So said my king Dhritarashtra to you,” said Sanjaya in Upaplavya. Having delivered his message in full, he sat down and was silent, waiting for Yudhishtira’s response.
At first, Dhritarashtra’s message stunned the sabha of kings in Upaplavya and no one spoke. For a moment, it even seemed the Pandavas were the ones who wanted war and a festival of bloodshed; while, the blind king in Hastinapura and his sons were men of dharma, praying for peace. Then the cold evil of the whole thing struck that court.
Bheema jumped up and, his eyes turning crimson, began to pace the floor like a great tiger, growling from time to time. Sahadeva’s face was dark, his chest heaved as if his rage would erupt from him in fire. Arjuna, his mouth a grim line, glanced at Krishna. Krishna read his impulse clearly: to stop this negotiation with evil, to ride to Hastinapura and burn its malignant king.
Drupada sat stricken, hardly able to believe what he heard. Draupadi trembled where she sat. For a moment, perfect silence held the sabha. Yudhishtira also was too shocked to speak. He had not dreamt his uncle would go to this insane extent. The Pandava’s mind flashed back to all the years when he had obeyed Dhritarashtra implicitly, loved him like a father, trusted him absolutely. Coldness gripped his heart; he felt invisible hands were strangling him.
Then he realized that his brothers and all the kings were waiting for him to answer Dhritarashtra. Panic swept over Pandu’s son; for the thing that held him in a vice would not allow him to breathe, let alone speak. At that moment, he turned to Krishna. In the Dark One’s eyes he saw complete understanding of what he felt and a wave of relief flooded him. At Krishna’s look, the evil that seized Yudhishtira faltered and released him.
His heart still pounding, but fury driving fear from his body, the Pandava found the courage to speak. In a steady voice, he said warningly, “Sanjaya, you are only a messenger so I will not show you my anger. But from now, be careful what you say in this sabha. Don’t forget I am not a brahmana, but a kshatriya. Perhaps, Dhritarashtra believes some of what he accuses me of, before all these, my dearest ones on earth. It is not my place to answer an elder in an open sabha. It his privilege to believe whatever he wants and my dharma to keep what I think to myself.
As for the reply, which my uncle obviously expects from me, I leave that to Krishna. He has heard everything you said. Let him decide if we should desist from war because of the message Dhritarashtra sends,” his voice sank, “or whether we should have war just because of his message. Whatever I have done so far has been with Krishna’s blessing. Today, I relinquish my will and my future to him. Let him decide what we must do, I will abide by his decision.”
Only the Dark One saw, in his clear heart, how more subtle pieces of fate fell in place for a bloody war. He had come to remove a burden of evil from the earth and his brilliant life had not been a peaceful one. But this final war between the forces of darkness and light would be an unprecedented purification. The war on the brink of the ages would shed more blood than any previous one and the grateful earth would be lighter by millions of arrogant lives. Then she could cross easily into the age to come, the diminished kali yuga, with no power left upon her that might dominate the coming night.
The true reasons for Krishna’s birth into the world at the age’s end were as mysterious as life itself, as inscrutable as he was. But he had come to cleanse the earth and the Kuru war was to be the climax of that ceremony. Knowing how inexorable destiny is, Krishna smiled to himself at these courtly messages and deliberations.
But in the council in Upaplavya, he said, “Sanjaya, I am moved that my cousin relinquishes his very fate to me, the welfare of the Pandavas is my first concern. Yet, I would also like Dhritarashtra’s sons to have long lives. Your king’s message is strange indeed. It seems to me, he seeks to blame Yudhishtira for Duryodhana’s crimes.
After the game of dice, we all urged Yudhishtira to take back with force what he had been deprived of by low deceit. But he said he was also to blame for what had happened and the path of dharma led surely through thirteen years of exile. Now the blind one in Hastinapura dares fault him for his rectitude, for his majestic patience. Sanjaya, a thief must be punished. Even a king who takes what is not his, is just a thief. To my mind, Yudhishtira should punish Duryodhana; it is his kshatriya dharma.
There will be no peace, as long as Duryodhana holds what rightfully belongs to Yudhishtira. I say, not only is Duryodhana a thief, but his father Dhritarashtra is also one. Didn’t he encourage his son to take what did not belong to him? Didn’t he enjoy the fruits of Duryodhana’s sin? Even now Dhri-tarashtra does not want to give back what is not his to keep: what he gave away, long ago, though it was only a desert then. And Dhritarashtra dares preach peace to Yudhishtira, who is an image of dharma on earth? I would laugh at his temerity, were it not so heartless and so tragic.
I still say to you, Yudhishtira does not want this war. And neither do I. We do not wish to stain the earth with the blood of eleven aksauhinis, or even to kill Dhritarashtra’s sons. Let them return Indraprastha to Yudhishtira and there will be no war. Only Yudhishtira’s selfless nature makes this solution possible. A lesser man would have extracted terrible revenge for the shame he and his brothers and, most of all, Draupadi suffered in Hastinapura and for thirteen bitter years of exile. Can Duryodhana even imagine what these lords of the earth endured when they were deprived, in a day, of everything they had?”
This was not the genial Krishna, whom everyone knew and loved; it was another Krishna, grave and fearsome. He spoke softly, slowly and there was no laughter in him at all. “Yes, return to your king and tell him what I say to you now. Tell every man in that sabha Krishna said each one of them deserves to die for what they did to Panchali on the day of the game of dice. I except no one: not the elders, who sat by and watched what happened without stirring to stop it. All of them, save Vidura, deserve to die. Sanjaya, tell Karna that Arjuna has never forgotten what he said to Draupadi on that day. Tell him my cousin does not sleep at nights because he hears those words murmuring in his head, relentlessly.
Tell Dusasana, Bheema has not forgotten what he tried to do to the precious Panchali. Remind him of Bheema’s oath. Tell Dusasana that Draupadi has not yet tied her hair; she is waiting to wash it in his blood before she does. Tell Duryodhana that, awake and asleep, Bheema sees the thigh on which he dared call Panchali to sit. Ah, Sanjaya, you know everything that happened. I am surprised that you bring this message to us from your king. Go back and tell them Sahadeva has not forgotten the oath he swore to kill Shakuni. Every day he thinks of the smile on Shakuni’s face, when he told Yudhishtira across the dice-board, ‘You still have Draupadi to wager.’
Every morning, at his prayers, Nakula renews his oath to kill Uluka. I need say no more. Dhrit-arashtra has not sent you here because he truly wants peace or to give up his greed, but only because he is afraid. We want peace not because we are afraid, but because we do not want to see kshatriya kind destroyed by the war; because Yudhishtira still cares for the lives not only of his brothers, but of his cousins. That is a great difference, Sanjaya. I know Yudhishtira; he does not want to make widows of the Kauravas’ wives. But Duryodhana is full of darkness and obstinacy.
Go back to your king and say all this to him. Say I will come myself to Hastinapura, soon, to try to make them see reason. I do not think I will succeed, but I will surely come and try. In the meanwhile, tell Dhritarashtra he did not choose his words wisely when he sent his message through you. He does Yudhishtira an injustice; and if Duryodhana does not relent, this foolish message will be answered with arrows.
There are two trees in this generation of the Kuru House. One is a sinister tree that grows in Hastinapura, a tree of evil. Its name is Duryodhana. Its trunk is Karna, its branches are Shakuni, its flower is Dusasana and its deep roots from where it truly springs, is your blind king, with his secretive heart: cowardly, dangerous, cold-blooded Dhritarashtra.
Look here, at the other Kuru tree, fair and lustrous: a tree of dharma and wisdom called Yudhishtira. Arjuna is its trunk, Bheema its branches, Nakula and Sahadeva are its fruit and flowers.” Krishna smiled suddenly, “And I am the root of this tree of light. A storm will sweep the earth, a savage storm of war. Think carefully, Sanjaya, which of these trees shall withstand that storm?
Go now, you have reply enough from us to take back to your king. Tell him everything we said to you. Say the Pandavas wish fervently for peace and peace there will be if Yudhishtira’s kingdom is returned to him. Otherwise, there will be war and the war will be the end of the Kauravas.”
Sanjaya said sadly, “Yudhishtira, the message I brought was not my own, nor does it express what I feel. I am only my king’s voice, when I come as his messenger. I have known you and your brothers since you were boys and you know how fond I am of you. You must not think harshly of me and you must not either, Krishna. I have always wished the sons of Pandu well and I still do. Now give me a message for the king.”
Yudhishtira had regained his composure. Gently he said, “I did not mean to hurt you, Sanjaya, but I was stung by my uncle’s message. You have always loved us as much as Vidura has and I am aware of it. You were there on the day of the game of dice and I know you warned the king against what he did. Good Sanjaya, a golden bowl does not change to a base metal because poison is poured into it.
As for the message I send back through you: wish them all well in Hastinapura; greet the elders for me and the others. Then tell Duryodhana I said to him, ‘Cousin, the only music in your heart is of your desires. Sometimes you must listen to other sweeter songs. We want peace with you, Duryo-dhana. You are a great king; give back what is mine and be a greater king than ever. Either return Indraprastha, or fight me. I pray you will listen to reason and there may be lasting peace between us.’
Give this message to my cousin, Sanjaya.”
Arjuna did not like the softness of his brother’s message. He rose and said in anger, “Indraprastha is like a bondwoman to Duryodhana, while Yudhishtira is her true master. Tell Duryodhana to release our city and our kingdom, or he will face the Pandavas in battle. We have Krishna, Satyaki, Drupada, Drishtadyumna and Shikhandi with us. Duryodhana made my brother sleep on a rough bed for twelve years. In return, we will make him sleep forever on a bloody field. Yudhishtira has kept his anger to himself, these long, hard years. If he unleashes it, his rage will consume Duryodhana and his army as fire does a dry forest in summer.
Yama wields a mace. Duryodhana will see Bheema wield his mace among the Kaurava host and I swear my brother’s wrath shall not be less than Death’s. Let Duryodhana remember the other sons of Pandu. Let him think of Abhimanyu, who is Arjuna’s son and Krishna’s nephew. Let him think well how he will stop my boy on the field of war. Abhimanyu will blow like a tempest at the Kauravas!”
It was rare, indeed, for the quiet Arjuna to say so much. Obviously, he was moved and they all listened to him in silence, because he was eloquent today.
“Remind Duryodhana we have the indomitable Drupada and Virata with us. Surely, he has not forgotten Shikhandi and Dhrishtadyumna. Tell your king the fire-born Dhrishtadyumna shall be the Senapati of our legions. Tell Duryodhana again that Satyaki is with us. I am certain he has forgotten Satyaki’s valor, or he would not even dream of war.
More than any of these, remind my foolish cousin that Krishna will be my sarathy. Tell him, Sanjaya, that the Pandavas plan a yagna. Krishna will be the priest for our sacrifice, the song of the Gan-diva will be the sound of the Vedas and the havis, the burnt offering, will be the Kaurava host. Take my message back to our cousin.”
Arjuna sat down, red-eyed and Bheema, who stood some way off at the back of the court, cried, “Tell that fool what Arjuna says! Say Bheema says the same thing.”
When the sabha was quiet again, Yudhishtira said, “Sanjaya, you see how angry my brothers are. You must persuade Duryodhana to give me back my kingdom. I have no wish to be the occasion for this war. If everything else fails, I will accept just five towns to make peace. Let him give me Indrapr-astha, Vrikaprastha, Jayanta and Varanavrata. These hold memories for us. The fifth town, why, let it be a village, can be of his choice.”
Bheema and Arjuna exchanged a glance at this madness and Krishna smiled. Yudhishtira went on, “This is my offer to show Duryodhana I do not want war. Let him give me these five towns and I will be content. How can I want my cousins dead? No, I want peace.”
Sanjaya bowed. He left the court in Upaplavya with tears in his eyes, that Yudhishtira should suffer as he did. Anxiety went with that good messenger, as he rode back to Hastinapura.
It was late in the evening, when Sanjaya arrived back in Dhritarashtra’s palace. He was deeply troubled and decided to see the king straightaway. But he would deliver the message from Upaplavya only the next day, in court.
Sanjaya said to the guards, “I want to see the king if he is not asleep. Announce me to him.”
Dhritarashtra had been waiting for his messenger’s return. He took Sanjaya’s hand and made him sit beside him. “What happened, Sanjaya? What did the Pandavas say?”